One Day
by Pigwidgeon15
Summary: Incomplete What happens when everyday Hermione wakes up she has no recollection of the many days before?


Turning on to her back Hermione kept her eyes shut tight. She didn't want to go to class today. She was so tired and didn't really know why. Her body was use to the late nights she spent studying. Bringing a hand to her face she rubbed her eyes, swiping the sleep from them. Her back was sore too. Letting out a breath she reached towards her bedside table for her wand except that there was no bedside table, simply more bed.

Opening her eyes, Hermione saw the white ceiling above her instead of the royal red canopy she was accustomed to. Looking to her right she saw a second pillow beside her own, a white silk and cotton duvet coving it. What was going on? Slowly she pulled back the duvet as she sat up to reveal a head of red hair. With a flick of her wrist Hermione threw back the covers to reveal freckled face man.

Hermione screamed, scrambling backwards, looking for the edge of the bed, it was huge, enough for three people. Finding the edge she scrambled onto her feet. The figure in the bed awoke abruptly, scrambling to a sitting position.

"Where am I?" she shouted, her heart pounding.

"It's okay," he said, his voice soothing. "You're at home, our home."

"No, Hogwarts is! Where am I? Why am I here? Who are you? What do you want from me?" Hermione sprouted off question after question. Her arms wrapped around herself.

The red head slowly got out of the bed and on to his feet. Hermione felt dwarfed, he must have been at least 6 foot 4. The huge bed with light coloured wood posts and white linen stood between them, making her feel little safer. Beside her was a small dressing table, also white. Pastel coloured paintings and decorations covered the walls a dresser stood opposite the bed end and a partially open door was in the far corner.

"Hermione take a breath. It's me, Ron," insisted the man. It was definitely _not _Ron. Ron was shorter, and wimpier. Ron was a boy, not this man!

At that moment the door opened fully revealing another man, quite a few inches shorter than the red head. He wore slacks and a loose fitting shirt. His hair was dark and mussed up.

"What…?" He stopped when he saw her standing next to the bed. "Hermione, it's okay."

They both kept insisting it was alright. "No it's not," she screamed. "I don't know who you are, or where I am!" Oh, god, not the tears. She needed anything other than tears. They were a sign of weakness, she had to be strong.

"Take a deep breath," said the shorter man. "You're going to get yourself worked up."

"Worked up?" she asked incredulously.

The dark haired man continued as if he hadn't heard her. "On that dresser there," he indicated to the one opposite the bed end, "is your wand and a pensive. I want you took look into those memories before you do anything else."

The red head looked as though he wanted to say something but stopped short. Hermione looked back to the dresser, spotting the bowl with the eerie looking memories.

She flashed a look to the men and dashed over, grabbing her wand and holding it to them.

"Let me out of here now," she demanded. She didn't care about the memories, it was probably a trap.

"Don't try and play the hero, 'Mione. That was Harry's job," said the red head.

Her eyes darted between the two of them and then around the room, looking for a way out.

"Hermione, darling," said a soft voice from behind her. She jumped, brandishing her wand towards the voice. "I'm just a portrait, sweetie."

"Mum?" she whispered looking at the portrait. Her eyes were on the portrait but her wand was turned back to the men who had not left or moved when she found no threat behind her.

"Take a look at the memories, possum, they will explain everything." The aging woman in the portrait smiled her wrinkled face pulling. Hermione turned cautiously to look at the memories and then back at the portrait. "Could anyone else make me look this beautiful?" she asked. Hermione did not answer. "Trust me, darling, they will explain everything."

Hermione gave in, shifting her wand from the men. With its tip she touched the liquid-smoke substance. The world swirled for a moment before depositing her into a blank plane. An image of her mum suddenly appeared.

"This is an account of your life from what you remember so far," said the distant smoky voice.

A battle scene appeared around them, witches and wizards duelling, spells flying, some straight through her.

"This was the final battle. You were separated from Harry and Ron," she explained, referring to the two figures back to back beside them. It was Harry and Ron, fighting of three Death Eaters.

"Where's Hermione?" asked Harry.

"I don't know!" said a panicky Ron, flinging off a binding curse.

"Follow me," called Harry as he broke apart and darted through the people to a safe line of trees. Ron was right on his tail. Once safely in the foliage they levitated into the trees, looking for their friend.

"There," said Ron, pointing towards a building. Sure enough there she was, shooting off spell for spell with Marcus Flint. She watched herself call a powerful spell that took a split second too long to form and she was hit by a spell from Marcus, unable to shield or dodge it, as her own hit him. Both crumpled to the ground.

The memory faded before she could think properly. It must have been the final battle, but Voldemort was still healing from the last attack that had failed! It didn't make sense.

"He took your memory," the calm smoky voice said. "The part of your memory that makes your short term, long term. Every time you sleep, your short term memory is reset."

She tried to think of some way to articulate her questions but found she could not. Instead her mother kept speaking.

"Harry and Ron helped you heal as best as they could but found you could not handle school any longer." Images of classes and friends that turned away drifted around her. "You couldn't do anything really. People wanted to study you, to photograph you, to write about the anomaly you are. They didn't want that for you and instead took you away to begin your new life." A picture of a house replaced the others. It was large and homely but not too big. The land was large and she knew that it was protected by many wards. "The boys grew older," she explained as two faces that she knew and love extended to become whole bodies that began to grow, turning into the men that had woken her. It really was Ron, and Harry. "And you fell in love."

Hermione's head whipped towards her mother as she dissipated. "What?" she asked softly. The two boys began to speak.

"You spent so much time with us," explained Harry, "we realised that sometimes things are just meant to be."

"We tried to ignore it, to have normal social lives while still looking after you, but we soon realised we both craved you, 'Mione." Ron gave her a shy sort of grin.

"You loved us back," Harry continued. "You agreed to become our sworn partner, we all did to each other."

"Look at your wrist," insisted Ron as both boys pulled back their left sleave to revel a small design on their wrist. Pulling back the sleeve of her own clothes Hermione saw the intertwining rings.

"Let us show you our feelings." A small ball of misty light, that grew stronger by the second, came into existence and floated towards her. Hermione instinctively reached out and placed her hands through the mist. Feelings of love, and warmth, and protection, and affection, and joy, and more that she could not name, floated across her conscious self.

The mist receded from around her and deposited her back in the bedroom with the two men, Ron and Harry. She didn't know what to say. Hermione brought at a hand to her mouth in shock. Both men moved forward and easily directed her to a large comfortable wicker chair that sat to one side. Harry kneeled before her as Ron did the same beside her.

"Just breath nice big slow breaths," said Harry, taking in breaths with her so she didn't hyperventilate. Each had taken a hand, she having lost her wand at some stage.

Her head was still reeling Harry spoke again. "Hermione, I have to lift a spell that stopped you from hurting yourself, okay?" he asked. She managed to give a weak nod as the former saviour of the wizarding world drew out his wand whispered a charm, pointing it at her.

A ripple crossed her abdomen and an almost glittery substance appeared nearly two hand widths in front of her. It spread to her and suddenly became solid. She had a huge stomach.

"You're going to have a baby soon, Hermione."

Hermione did the only thing she was capable of doing and squeezed her hands around those of the boys, nearly unconsciously looking for support. Her eyes looked down on her stomach, not believing what they saw.

She tried to say something, but all that came out was a scared little whimper. The boys, men, soothed her, reassuring hands stroked her arms, lips whispered words of comfort. Ron stood beside her, still grasping her hand as his fingers stroked her hair.

"It will all be alright. Everything will be fine, just give it a little time," he whispered, his words true.


End file.
